


a cup of chamomile tea

by coarseCorsair



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, a dubious relationship to canon at best, other characters have more minor roles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 21:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coarseCorsair/pseuds/coarseCorsair
Summary: Being Champion of Kirkwall takes a toll on you.Thankfully there are people that can help.





	a cup of chamomile tea

Hawke woke up, her cheeks caked with drool. Fuck, how long had she been asleep? Her breath smelled like death. The rest of her wasn’t faring much better. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even taken a bath. A week ago? Two weeks ago? She wished she could care, but she didn’t. All she felt was nothingness. Except it was more than that. She’d gone through these bouts before, ever since her adolescence, but it was never this...pronounced. It was as if she had died, but something forced her to keep on living. Get up, eat, read, feed the dog, eat, sleep, again and again and again and again. Hours blurring into days blurring into weeks blurring into 

There was a knock at the door. Then another. And yet another. There was a slight pause before the knocking came again. Only one person could be this persistent. 

Hawke walked up to the door and opened it. Isabela stood in front of her, an expression of concern (tinged with a little bit of anger) on her face.

“Hawke!” she exclaimed. “Do you know how worried we all were? Hell, Merrill was practically convinced that you’d died!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I? Don’t worry about me,” Hawke replied while forcing a grin. She was no stranger to lying through her teeth, assuring everyone that she was alright when she so clearly wasn’t. It had taken a toll on her, but there had to be someone to lift everyone’s spirits. She would happily take that burden if it meant that she could alleviate others’ pain, even slightly. Isabela knew Hawke too well to be fooled. Neither of them could keep a secret from the other anymore. They were both past that point in their lives. Hawke thought she was, at least.

“Says the person who’s been locked up in her house for two weeks,” remarked Isabela as she entered the mansion and closed the door behind her. She put her hands on Hawke’s shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “Hawke...you know I care about you. If something’s been troubling you, I’m right here.” She gave Hawke a soft, fleeting kiss on the cheek. “I’ll even make you a cup of tea, alright? You, on the other hand, should go take a bath.”

The bath was so good that Hawke could’ve stayed there for hours, but it would’ve been rude to keep Isabela waiting. She got out of the bathtub and toweled herself off. All the grime and muck gave way to the faint scent of roses and her robes were replaced with a newer and much cleaner set of clothes. While she still didn’t feel great, she certainly felt better than she had before (that is to say, she felt anything at all).  Hawke headed off to the kitchen to find Isabela sitting at the dinner table with two piping hot cups of tea.

Isabela made a come hither motion and Hawke complied, taking a seat right across from her. “Drink up, it helps with the melancholy,” she said, delicately brushing her fingers against the back of Hawke’s hand.

“Is that what they call it?” Hawke asked. Melancholy sounded so...dramatic. It wasn’t as if she had been spending all her time writing sad poems and crying. Honestly, that would have probably been an improvement over her current situation.

“That’s what Anders calls it. Says you’ve got all the symptoms. Your humors are all unbalanced or something like that.”

“I take it there’s no magical cure or anything?”

“Afraid not, unless you particularly enjoy bleeding into a bucket.”

“It’s alright,” Hawke said, giving a weak but earnest smile, “I’ve been living with it for what, 20 years by now? There’s good days and bad days and...really bad days where I don’t get out of bed and just wallow in nothingness. But I have my friends. I have Kirkwall. I have you. That means so, so much to me...Maker, that was a lot, wasn’t it?”

“It was, it was,” Isabela reassured her, giving her a soft smile in return. “You’re cute when you’re earnest, though.”

Hawke took a sip of the tea, which burned her tongue, which in turn resulted in her muttering the word ‘fuck’ several times under her breath.

“You’re supposed to blow first.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

“But it’s true!”

“Fine, fine.” She blew into the cup and took another, far more careful sip. Chamomile and honey - her favorite. Her whole body felt warmer, more alive. Even if there was no magic cure, this definitely helped. It was the little things like these: a nice bath, a warm drink, a dear friend.

“What do you say we go down to the Hanged Man later today, all of us? Drinks are on you,” Isabela suggested.

“Why me?” Hawke replied, feigning offence.

“You’re the one with an entire estate, love, not me.”

“Right, right…anyways, I think I’m going to visit a friend.”

“Stay a little bit longer, please?” Isabela asked, her intent clear as day.

“Of course.”

* * *

By some stroke of luck, Hawke and Isabela had managed to gather all of their friends to meet up at the Hanged Man, and they were all seated at Varric’s table (it wasn’t actually his table, but he’d been sitting there for so long that everyone just assumed it was his property at this point). “So...is there any particular occasion we’re celebrating? Birthday? Marriage? ...divorce?” Varric asked.

“Do we really need a reason?” replied Isabela.

“...no, not really.”

“Exactly!” she said, downing a tankard of ale. She turned to Aveline, who didn’t seem to have touched or even looked at her mug. “C’mon, big girl, it’s free!” she shouted, giving her a gentle pat on the back.

“Afraid I can’t. Got a pair on the way,” Aveline answered matter-of-factly.

Merrill’s eyes lit up upon hearing this and she made a noise that somewhat resembled a squeal, but somehow even higher pitched. “Ooh, you’re having kids? Do I get to be the auntie?” she asked, bits of mash flying out of her mouth.

“Someone’s got to take care of the little ones while I’m at work, I suppose.”

“What about me?” Isabela asked, butting back into the conversation.

“You’re a bad influence.”

“And you love it.”

Aveline sighed. True, there was some charm to her. An incredibly grating sort of charm, but it was charm nonetheless. “It’s a miracle that you have Hawke to keep you grounded.”

“Speaking of…”

“What, is she expecting as well?” Varric remarked.

“If I was, you’d be the first person to know.”

Isabela gave her a look. Oh. Right. This was the point when one usually made a toast. It was tradition. Hawke didn’t exactly like tradition. Still, she raised her drink, and...the words failed to come out. “I’m...I’m sorry.” She failed them again, just like she’d failed everyone else in her life. She couldn’t save her brother and she couldn’t save her mother and she couldn’t help

She feels a light tapping on her shoulder. It’s Varric. “Hawke?”

“Oh? Right, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s alright, we all know you’ve been dealing with a ton of shit. You can leave the smooth talking to me.”

“Thanks.”

Varric raised his tankard and gave a long (yet wholly captivating) speech about Hawke. Most of what he said was hyperbole, if not outright lies, but that was the norm with Varric. Hawke simply smiled and downed her drink.

The rest of the evening was spent with plenty of drinks, food and song, but eventually they all had to leave for one reason or another. The sun had already risen by the time that Hawke arrived at her home. She went to bed, the warmth of her blanket gently lulling her to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> only took me like 2 years to write a fic again lol...
> 
> shout out to ao3 user magicbees for proofreading and the various people (who are too many to count) for being willing to listen to my ideas!


End file.
